


polaris

by oculata



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Car Ride, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21615889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oculata/pseuds/oculata
Summary: For a moment, Mickey and Ian feel like they're the only two people in the world.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 94





	polaris

**Author's Note:**

> i’m not totally certain on when this takes place—maybe sometime in season 4. in any case, i hope you enjoy.
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_clennam)

It was dark, and the edges of the windshield had clouds of fog crawling towards its center. Mickey was tired and a little tipsy. His eyelids were getting heavy, and his vision of the dark freeway was acting much more like a smudged pane rather than a clear lens. He reached up and wiped his hand down his face in an attempt to press some life back into himself.

Mickey turned his head towards Ian, feeling an unsettling swivel in his neck as he moved, to look at him. He wondered how he was faring because Ian had been driving nonstop for over an hour and a half. He was probably just as tired as Mickey, if not more so, but he looked calm and alive. His wrist was draped over the steering wheel, and his gaze on the road was easy but focused. The occasional lights that dotted the freeway illuminated his face and carried his features and the shadows they projected across his profile and throat. Mickey liked seeing the light smooth across Ian’s cheekbone and how he could almost see the green in Ian’s irises glowing.

Ian felt Mickey glazing over his features, and he turned to him momentarily, a smile flickering across his countenance when he caught Mickey’s sleepy but admiring eyes.

“What’re you looking at?” Ian asked when he faced the road again.

“Look nice,” Mickey muttered before curling his back off his seat to stretch his arms and spine, letting out a small groan as he did so. “You mind pullin’ over? ‘M a little carsick.”

“Oh,” Ian said, the concern in his voice apparent. “Yeah, of course.”

The stretch of road they had been driving on was devoid of other vehicles but surrounded by meadows, so Ian eased off into the shoulder and turned off the car. He hopped out of his seat and ran over to the passenger side to help Mickey step out. When the door opened and he offered his hand, Mickey’s cheeks raised up from his smile.

“Can get out myself,” he groused jokingly as he took Ian’s hand and rose from of his seat. His stance was a little wobbly, so Ian wrapped his free arm around Mickey’s waist to stabilize him. This was in vain, though, because Mickey toppled anyway, falling onto Ian’s body with his face nuzzled in Ian’s neck. Through the thin fabric of Mickey’s shirt, Ian could feel the heat spread under Mickey's skin where he was being held, and he could feel Mickey’s breath against his neck become slower and deeper while his hold on Ian’s hand tightened.

“You okay?” Ian asked, the breath of his words wisping through Mickey’s short hair.

Mickey nodded against Ian’s neck and supplemented the physical gesture with a singsongy hum. Then he froze again, his breathing becoming deeper and deeper and his fingers moving slowly so they could lace with Ian’s.

Ian turned his head a bit and pressed his nose into Mickey’s hair. He sucked in a breath, savoring how Mickey’s scent pervaded his lungs and sat so pleasantly in his chest, filling out the space in his rib cage that he had never noticed was empty before. It was a gentle and soothing aroma, underscored by a vanilla shampoo. It gave Ian the sensation of being held, having his back stroked by Mickey's smooth palm and idle fingertips roaming down his spine. He sunk into the feeling a little—not enough to lose his grounding completely and send him and Mickey tumbling onto the grass, but enough to relax and let his mind dream.

“I smell good, Gallagher?” Mickey teased, his voice muffled by Ian’s neck.

Ian hummed his agreement into Mickey’s hair.

“Smell like comfort,” Ian muttered before taking in another breath.

Mickey eased off of Ian’s body, and though the arm around Mickey’s waist dropped, their hands and fingers stayed locked together.

“Wanna sit?” Mickey suggested, motioning his chin over Ian’s shoulder towards the meadow.

Ian blinked. Mickey had a different look to him when he was tired. He was always handsome, and typically, he looked hard and fierce, ready to launch into defensive mode at a second’s notice. Mickey spent a lot of time with his guard very high up, Ian noted, always running at one hundred and ten percent, always careful to never let any emotion other than anger or annoyance slip through. But when he was tired, he looked beautiful—his skin looked softer, his lips looked more plush, and his muted freckles pierced through his skin. His eyes were captivating—so vibrant, yet mellow like a moonlit lake, tiny waves bouncing the reflections of stars along its surface.

“Sure,” Ian responded. He turned around, his hand clasping Mickey’s, and began leading them away from the lights and freeway and into the shadowy meadow. The grass shuffled below their feet as they walked across it, matting down onto the ground to create a little trail for them alone to follow.

He didn’t lead them far, but far enough that only the moon and stars hanging above illuminated them. He then looked back at Mickey and motioned towards the ground. Mickey nodded, slipped his hand out from Ian’s, and settled onto the soft grass, staring up at Ian expectantly.

Ian then sank down, too, close enough that their shoulders were pressing together. For a while, they both just gazed at the splendor of the meadow. When a momentary breeze would roll in, the grass would lean to the right, the shards of forest green swaying gently as they returned to being upright. Then another breeze came in, and as if he were mimicking the motion of the grass, Mickey’s head tilted to rest on Ian’s shoulder. Ian’s body slackened as he felt Mickey’s cheek mold around his shoulder and his silky hair contour around his jawline.

The moon shone brightly above them—a spotlight hovering in the sky for the only two people on earth. They sat quietly, each man listening for the breath of the other. Mickey slid one hand through the grass until he found Ian’s fingers. He lifted his hand and gently placed it over Ian’s cold knuckles, feeling how they burned back to life under his touch.

“Hey,” Mickey said quietly, lifting his head from Ian’s shoulder.

Ian quickly turned around to face him, horrified that he had done something wrong. He searched the top of Mickey’s head for answers, worried that Mickey would leave entirely and close whatever intimacy was developing between them. His heart was pounding, absolutely thundering through his chest and throat, and anxiety was coursing through his veins and down into his fingertips and toes. He felt himself get a little light-headed, and right then Mickey looked up at him.

He was peeking up through his eyelashes, the gentle white of the moonlight lightening his eyes a few shades. Half of his face was glowing and the other half was shrouded by darkness, but Ian could see it all looked gentle and mild, if not a little embarrassed. When Ian’s rigid body softened, Mickey darted his eyes towards the vastness of the meadow, but Ian could feel that he was still present in that space between them. Mickey smoothed his hand over the backs of Ian’s fingers and knuckles in short strokes, seemingly trying to use the movement to calm himself.

Then his hand stopped moving, and he looked back up, his lips parted just a touch. His sleepy eyes lolled completely closed, and he began lifting his head up to meet Ian’s mouth. Ian quickly ducked his head down to meet Mickey’s lips, and Mickey squeezed the back of Ian’s hand as they connected. The kiss was light and placid, their mouths forming around each other in a way that was becoming more and more familiar, yet still fresh and exhilarating as ever.

Ian brought his arm up and wrapped his hand around Mickey’s neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of Mickey’s cheek. Their kiss deepened, and they moved closer together as they melted into each other’s forms and mouths. Ian’s thumb began to glide along Mickey’s skin, and he heard and felt Mickey exhale a shuddered breath as he pressed closer onto Ian’s lips and hand.

After a while, Mickey eased off, their lips separating with a soft pop. Ian saw Mickey’s eyes searching his face, the corners of his mouth turned up just a bit.

“Warmer in the car,” Mickey whispered.

Ian sucked in a breath. “Yeah.”

Mickey stood up from the ground, tugging at the shirt fabric covering Ian’s shoulder once he was on his feet. Ian rose up, and Mickey instantly grabbed onto Ian’s hand, lacing their fingers together, one palm molding against the other. For the briefest moment, Mickey looked at their connected hands, and then he started leading them back to the car.


End file.
